


Happily After All

by Azpidistra



Category: Fairy Tales and Related Fandoms
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-03
Updated: 2012-03-03
Packaged: 2017-11-01 02:03:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/350749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azpidistra/pseuds/Azpidistra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The trees are just woods, and the woods are just trees." ... or, while this is not exactly 'Into the Woods;, it is a story of coming through to the other side, and living.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happily After All

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lastwingedthing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastwingedthing/gifts).



 

Once upon a time....

\---

 

These woods will not harm you, mother says,  
and you believe her.

These trees will not hurt you, she tells you,  
and you go walking between them, and through.

You wear your new cloak, walking in the woods;  
its color the same red as the apples you carry  
in your basket, and the blood 

washed clean.

You wear your new cloak, hood pulled tight,  
and your shoes – black, and shiny – and you 

feel the sun on your hands and face.  
You go walking between the trees, and through,

and you carry your cheese and bread, wine and fruit,  
apples red as your new cloak, and you step lightly

along the path.

These woods are not made to harm you, your mother says,  
and you believe her.

So you walk.

It's only when you meet the wolf,  
and you're not yet scared, do you realize – 

these trees are not made to hurt you,  
but sometimes the shadows lurk

inside.

\----

 

It was never the spindles I did or did not prick my finger on   
that set me down, yanked what fairy graces I had   
temporarily from me.

It was never the magician's spells  
or incantations which set the whirligig in motion, opened  
what threshold I eventually entered, exited, crossed. 

My story is no bedtime story to tell your children in the dark,  
to leave the blacker undercurrents unheard, to sweep what  
tiny details you do not want to bear witness to under the   
staircase, to lock the door on the truths of what happened.

I was not merely crippled for my gifts or curses, not just  
woken with Love's first kiss. I woke only after a man   
I did not know, aroused from my slumber, took my free will  
for his. 

Only after the children crawled from inside me,  
and bit hard on my breasts. 

I woke with screams in my throat,   
and disgust in my clenched hands and narrowed eyes,   
to see a man (he called himself my husband),  
smiling, gesturing with expression unforgiving.

And I shut myself from him; turned away. You  
were never welcomed  
here.

\---

 

For the moment, Red Riding Hood leans over the chair  
to ask the Sleeping Beauty -

there are so many questions she wants to know,  
like how it felt to sleep a century,  
only to wake to find  
a baby on your chest,

and how does she continue living  
after such cruelty and care,

but perhaps the last question's  
not phrased properly,

but still she is eager, and she considers  
the Sleeping Beauty to be her friend,  
her protectorate as much as she is  
in return.

She had learned too much  
of the wolf, she realizes, wearing the cloak  
she made from his fur and blood.

But she leans closer eagerly,  
all the same,   
as if it's a secret she has to tell,  
and not a 

confession.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a minor obsession writing poems about fairy tales. Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
